Anything For Her
by fiftyshadesfreak
Summary: Christian's POV of the night after the incident with Leila – being touched for the first time and asking Ana to marry him…


**A/N: This is something i've always wanted to write! Cant help but wonder what was going through his mind here, so i gave it my best shot. I know it could probably be better - i suck at writing his his POV! lol**

**One more thing, i used "Dragon Naturally Speaking" on some of this. (Where u just speak into the mic and it writes for you) the problem is - is that sometimes it misunderstands and puts something totally different than wut i'm actually saying. So if u find something crazy in there that i didnt catch, then please forgive me! :)**

"Sir, she's not at the apartment or anywhere within a mile of that vicinity it seems. I've asked around – no one claims to have seen her," Taylor tells me over the phone, fueling my already on-edge state.

I pace like an angry tiger across the great room for the millionth time tonight, growing more and more agitated every second. My heart thumps faster than normal and it feels as if my stomach is in my throat.

Ana has gone MIA.

As soon as Flynn took over with Leila, I rushed back here, desperate to see if she was okay. But when I got here – no Ana. Despite the fact that I _told _her to come straight back to Escala.

I feel a fission of frustration with Taylor for not paying enough attention to notice that she and Cavanaugh disappeared. Now, only God knows where they are. Taylor and Sawyer and are both out looking, but there's no sign of either of them.

Ana left her purse in the Audi with her blackberry inside so I have no way to track her. And I still have her apartment keys so there's no way she can get back inside, though Taylor is still keeping watch there, just in case.

_Where the fuck could she have gone?! _

But even more puzzling is _why _she's doing this…I know it must have been terrifying to have a mentally unstable person hold a gun to you, but why the hell has she not come home yet?

"Ahhh," I mutter with frustration into the phone, running my hand through my hair again. At this point, I'm surprised it's not falling out yet.

_What is it with these women lately?!_

First, I spend almost two weeks searching everywhere for Leila. And now that I've finally found her, I have to start doing the same fucking thing with Ana.

"Okay," I huff to Taylor. Start at west end – go to Whitmore Street first," I tell him, grasping at straws now. I have to find her.

"Sir, we've already checked there as well. I think we should start looking closer to Escala. She might –,"

I don't hear whatever he was telling me, because at that moment, the elevator doors open and my eyes snap up to see a certain blue-eyed brunette finally walking in – about five hours too late.

"She's here," I say abruptly to Taylor, ending the call. I look at her for a brief second, just to make sure she's okay. When I see that she is, I no longer feel worried. No, I'm fucking pissed that she would put me through this.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I demand, boiling. I fight the urge to approach her, a precaution against me doing something rash.

Ana looks taken aback for a second, her eyes widening and her face looking like she's almost in disbelief at my reaction.

Then, I notice something else – how she sways just slightly where she stands, and the slightly glassy look in her sky-colored eyes.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask incredulously. _So that's what she's been doing for hours?! Getting drunk somewhere?_

"A bit," she admits, suddenly looking wary.

I suck in some more air, trying to calm down, but failing, as I drag my fingers through my hair again.

_Don't yell. Don't yell. Don't yell. _I keep repeating in my head over and over. I want to fucking scream at her. She fucking _knows _better. I've been here about have an aneurism and she's been out getting hammered?!

"I told you to come back here," I point out, having to clench my teeth to control my voice. "It's now fifteen after ten. I've been worried about you."

Worried? I want to scoff at the word – I've been a lot more than just worried.

"I went for a drink or three with Ethan while you attended to your ex," she lashes out, taking me by surprise. What the hell does she have to be angry about? "I didn't know how long you were going to be…with her."

Something in her tone is off, causing me to narrow my eyes with suspicion. She sounds…jealous. She sounds…hurt.

I take a couple of steps toward her, but stop myself from getting too close still.

"Why do you say it like that?" I ask.

She shrugs, looking down, refusing to meet my eyes. Suddenly, my anger cools about a good thousand degrees. Something's not right…

"Ana, what's wrong?" I no longer have to control my voice – it drops on its own, lower because it's laced with worry now.

She doesn't answer me though. Instead she swallows convulsively like she's upset, finally looking at me again. "Where's Leila?" In the two words, I can hear the sadness in her voice.

"In a psychiatric hospital in Fremont," I answer automatically, taking in her expression and trying to deduce what has her this upset. "Ana, what is it?"

I take slow, deliberate steps toward her until I'm standing in front of her, looking down at her. The proximity just makes it clearer that she's distraught about something. "What's wrong?"

I fight the urge to grab her and pull her to me, doing anything to take that look off her face.

She shakes her head in sadness, almost resignation. "I'm no good for you." The words hit me like a blow.

"What?" I whisper, panic starting to rise within me. Where the fuck did that come from? What happened in the last five hours to make her think something so blasphemous? "Why do you think that? How could you possibly think that?"

After all that's happened – after all I've told her – how could she be convinced of anything but the fact that I need her like I need oxygen.

"I can't be everything that you need," she says miserably.

"You are everything I need." _Everything and more._

"Just seeing you with her…," he hedges, her eyes taking on a faraway look, like she's seeing it right now.

What?! This is about Leila? Something occurs to me – she's upset because of how I handled Leila. I think about how it must have looked to Ana – me dominating Leila; her submitting…kneeling in front of me. _Is that what caused this? _How could she have possibly derived such a meaning from it?

"Why do you do this to me? This is not about you, Ana. It's about her." I gasp in a breath, yanking through my hair again. "Right now, she's a very sick girl."

"But I felt it…what you had together," she responds.

"What? No." how can she not see that I did what I had to do to protect her? I finally reach out toward her, determined to make her believe the truth in any way I can.

But she takes a step back, taking her right out of my reach. I gaze at her, stunned by the action.

Then, it hits me – hits me like a ten ton Mack truck.

That's the exact same thing she did when I reached for her right after a very similar conversation.

Right before she left me.

Terror grips me, as the realization of what's happening dawns on me. It's the same damn scene all over again. I feel like I might throw up.

This can't happen again. I can't lose her. I'll die this time if she leaves.

"You're running?" I ask, horrified.

Ana says nothing, but looks confused, her eyes darting away from me like she's trying to think of what to say.

"You can't," I interject, begging.

"Christian…," she finally says, shaking her head a little. "I…." She looks like she's at a loss for words, not knowing how to say what she wants to – to say the words which will take her away from me.

"No. No!" I argue, not believing this is actually happening.

"I…," she trails off again, shaking her head slightly.

I glance everywhere around the room, desperately trying to come up with any way to make her stay. Any way to make her see how much I need her.

"You can't go. Ana, I love you!" I plead.

"I love you, too, Christian. It's just - ," she starts.

"No…no!" I interrupt, not wanting to hear the words she's going to speak next, telling me that 'love isn't enough'; and she can't meet my "needs". I grasp my head in both hands.

"Christian…," she says my name like she's trying to calm me down.

"No," I repeat.

This can't happen. I wrack my brain for anything to prove to her that she's everything to me but I can't think of anything I haven't already said.

What does she want from me? What else can I possibly do that I haven't already to make her see that I don't need anything _but _her? What does she expect from me?

I can think of one thing. I have to show that I'll do anything – anything to convince her of the truth. Anything for her.

So, I use the only thing I know. Control.

Giving every bit of it up, I drop to my knees before her.

I bow my head in submission and rest my hands on my legs in the right position, and take a deep, calming breath. _I'm completely hers…_

She's always had the control here – from the very beginning. She has to understand that, and this is the only way I know how to prove it.

"Christian, what are you doing?" she asks from above me, sounding confused. I don't answer, realizing that she hasn't told me to do so.

I keep staring down, waiting for her to tell me what to do.

"Christian, what are you doing?" she repeats, this time her voice rising in panic when I don't respond. _I'm waiting to hear what you wan from me…What I can possibly do._

"Christian, look at me!" she cries in desperation. _There it is…_

Immediately, I snap my head up to look at her, obeying. I regard her with my most impassive expression, patiently waiting for my next command.

I watch as Ana's eyes widen, her face becoming horrified as she realizes what I'm doing. I hear a tiny gasp as she sucks in a breath between her lips which have fallen open with shock.

"Christian, please don't do this. I don't want this," she begs, alarmed.

_This is the only way to find out what you _do _want…_I continue to stare at her, waiting. I watch as tears spring into her eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks desperately, anguish leeching into her voice. _Because I don't know how else to keep you. _"Talk to me."

I blink, hearing another command. But it's not specific.

"What would you like me to say?" I ask, fishing for something more precise. _What can I possibly say to make you stay?_

The tears escape from her eyes and start trailing down her cheeks. I want so badly to brush them away, but I don't move a muscle.

Ana stares at me, crying, for a long moment. Her expression looks almost…pitying. Like she feels sorry for me somehow.

Then, suddenly, I see a flash of determination cross her face and watch as she lowers herself onto her knees in front of me, making us level with each other.

I stare at her in surprise, but don't change my expression or position.

She wipes at her face, ridding it of the tears. "Christian, you don't have to do this. I'm not going to run. I've told you and told you, I won't run. All that's happened…," she starts rambling desperately, her words taking me by surprise.

She wasn't leaving? Then where the hell was she going with all this? As if she can hear my thoughts, Ana goes on.

"I was going to suggest going back to my apartment this evening. You never give me any time…time to just think things through," she cries harder now. I can't stop the frown on my face. _I don't give you time to think because I know if you start over-thinking like you always do, you'll see how much better off you are without me and leave. For good this time._

Ana keeps going, her tears streaming freely as she frantically tries to explain her thoughts. "Just time to think. We barely know each other, and all this baggage that comes with you…I need…I need time to think it through. And now that Leila is…well, whatever she is…she's off the streets and not a threat…I thought…I thought…," she trails off for a moment, collecting herself. I wait patiently for her to go on.

"Seeing you with Leila…," she begins, closing her eyes as if in pain. "It was such a shock. I had a glimpse into how your life has been…and…" She stops again for a second, changing direction.

"This is about me not being good enough for you. It was an insight into your life, and I am so scared you'll get bored with me, and then you'll go…and I'll end up like Leila…a shadow. Because I love you, Christian, and if you leave me, it will be like a world without light. I'll be in darkness. I don't want to run. I'm just so frightened you'll leave me…"

_How can you not see that you have everything backwards?_

Ana goes on, a little calmer now. "I don't understand why you find me attractive. You're, well, you're you…and I'm…," she trails off, shrugging and glancing back up at me. _You're my heart – showing me how to love._

"I just don't see it," she says, as if she's responding to my thoughts. "You're beautiful and sexy and successful and good and kind and caring – all those things – and I'm not. And I can't do the things you like to do. I can't give you what you need. How could you be happy with me? How can I possibly hold you?"

Her voice has dropped to a whisper as she goes on. "I have never understood what you see in me. And seeing you with her, it brought it all home."

She sniffles, wiping at more tears. So that's what caused all of this? Irrational fears and paranoia? _Ana, you're so wrong. So off-base._

She stars at me, waiting. But my silence just frustrates her more.

"Are you going to kneel here all night? Because I'll do it, too," she bites out in aggravation.

_There's my girl…_

I look at her, fighting the urge to smile at her tone.

"Christian, please, please…talk to me," she begs, wringing her hands with anxiety.

I stare at her, hearing that general command again. But I'm still not sure what she wants to hear – what I should say to put her at ease.

She waits, more silence passing between us, as I debate what the best thing to do is. I wanted to know what she wanted, and she apparently wants me to talk…

"Please," she pleads again, looking at me with a desperate expression that crumbles any and all willpower to resist doing as she asks.

So, I speak. I still don't know what she would like me to say, so I decide to stick with the truth.

"I was so scared," I choke out, still feeling a remnant of the fear, even though she's said she wasn't going to leave.

Ana's shoulders relax visibly and she sags with relief at the sound of my voice. She's told me her view of what happened with Leila, so I need to tell her mine.

"When I saw Ethan arrive outside, I knew someone had let you into your apartment. Both Taylor and I leapt out of the car. We knew, and to see her there like that with you – and arms. I think I died a thousand deaths, Ana. Someone threatening you…all my worst fears realized. I was so angry, with her, with you, with Taylor, with myself."

I shake my head, feeling the dread wash over me yet again at the memory. "I didn't know how volatile she would be. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how she'd react." I stop momentarily, debating whether or not if she needs to hear this.

"And then she gave me a clue; she looked so contrite. And I just knew what I had to do." I stop again, making sure I haven't upset her.

"Go on," she urges.

I swallow hard, seeing it all again in my head.

"Seeing her in that state, knowing that I might have something to do with her mental breakdown…" I close my eyes in pain, potent guilt washing over me. "She was always so mischievous and lively."

A shudder runs through me from the assaults of memories that bombard my mind. I try to suck him a deep breath, unable to stop thinking about every punishment I bestowed on Leila during our time together, thinking that that may be the reason for all of this.

"She might have harmed you. And it would have been my fault." I stop talking, my eyes drifting away from Ana as the horror from that reality sinks in.

"But she didn't," Ana whispers, comforting me although it should be the other way around. "And you weren't responsible for her being in that state, Christian."

I glance back to see her silently urging me to continue talking. So I do.

"I just wanted you gone," I tell her, referring to my less than subtle command for her to leave the apartment. The one she still disobeyed… "I wanted you away from the danger, and… You. Just. Wouldn't. Go." I shake my head, saying the words through clenched teeth as my frustration with this beautiful woman and her constant defiance resurfaces yet again.

I stare straight into her wide eyes. "Anastasia Steele, you are the most stubborn woman I know." I close my eyes and shake my head again, wondering what on earth I'm going to do with this lovely girl.

I hear Ana taking huge breath of relief, blowing it out heavily. My eyes to look at her once again, my fear from just a minute ago still lingering. "You weren't going to run?" I ask, still not believing it.

"No!" she insists emphatically.

Her reassurance puts the rest of my worry at ease, and I feel every tensely coiled muscle in my body suddenly relaxing with relief, as if a huge weight has been lifted off of me.

But then my mind flickers back to her earlier words – of not being good enough; of not being what I need. So the problem still stands – what the hell can I possibly say to put her fears to rest?

"I thought –" I stop, choking on the words as the pain of _exactly_ just what I thought stabs at me again. I try again, "This is me, Ana. All of me… And I'm all yours. What do I have to do to make you realize that? To make you see that I want you anyway I can get you. That I love you."

"I love you, too, Christian, and to see you like this…" Ana starts, breaking off at the end as another small sob shakes her shoulders. "I thought I'd broken you."

_What?_

"Broken? Me? Oh no, Ana. Just the opposite." Unable to stand the space between us any longer, I reach to take her hand – the first physical contact we've had since this mess first started. "You're my lifeline," I whisper, kissing her knuckles before spreading her palm flush against mine.

The touch is comforting, reassuring.

_That's it!_ That's what she needs – reassurance.

And there's only one way I know to give it to her – one thing that I know will make her realize what she means to me.

Touch.

Another, different kind of fear seizes me as I take Ana's hand and mine, bringing it towards me. I don't hesitate – don't give myself a chance to reconsider this – as I place her hand right onto my chest, right over my heart which suddenly feels like it's going to explode.

This is it – the only thing I know to do to prove to her how important she is. I'll do anything to make her see. Anything for her.

My breath suddenly starts coming faster. I clench my teeth, my whole body tensing. But I don't take my eyes off hers – watching as they pop wide with shock. I even here her gasp.

I let my hands slide off hers, leaving it right where it is and trying to contain myself. I haven't been touched like this in almost 24 years. Except occasionally by Mia, who, for some reason, I've never really minded it from, but only through thick clothes.

The foreign feeling takes my breath away, as if I'm in actual physical pain – because I was the last time I was touched, in _a lot _of pain. Burning pain.

I feel her flex her fingers gently against my chest, and I stop breathing.

Suddenly, I feel her try to pull away.

"No," I gasp, taking her hand in mine once again and pressing it in the same place. "Don't."

Ana continues to stare at me like a deer in headlights, but she doesn't try to pull away again. Instead, she inches forward until our knees are touching and very slowly lifts her other hand, her eyes asking permission.

I fill my eyes widen, but make no move to stop her – knowing that this needs to happen.

Tentatively, she uses her other hand to start undoing the first buttons on my shirt. She barely gets through one when I feel her fingers of her other hand flexed beneath mine, needing them to help with the process as well.

Easily and intently, she gets through all the buttons and pulls each side of the shirt away, leaving my chest bare and exposed. Suddenly, I have never felt so vulnerable.

But I still don't stop her as she reaches up, her hand hovering over my skin, looking at me for assurance that I'm still okay with this. Instead of answering, I tilt my head, bracing myself for the touch. This time, skin on skin.

Ana hesitates, unsure of herself and obviously not wanting to hurt me.

"Yes," I manage to breathe out, urging her to go on. It works, for she closes the gap between us – using the softest of pressure as she trails her fingertips down my sternum. I close my eyes, the unfamiliar touch feeling as if it burns – as if a hot poker was being run over me instead of just harmless skin.

Ana apparently sees this, and removes her fingers again, but I stop her.

"No," I tell her with great effort, squeezing my eyes shut. "I need to."

My issue with physical contact has gone on far too long. And now that I have Ana, it's something that I now have to face. My thoughts flicker for just a split second back to our shower at the Olympic Hotel – the pain it visibly caused Ana not being able to touch me.

_I need this. She needs this. We need this._

Very gingerly, and still using the lightest pressure, Ana trails her fingertips across my chest over to my heart again.

I let my eyes reopen, wanting to see her – watch her as she experiences touching me for the first time.

Meeting may gaze, she seems to gather more surety and runs her fingertips back over my skin in the opposite direction. The move makes my breath come hard and fast until I'm gasping like I've just run a mile; and my teeth unclench, my jaw loosening until my lips part.

_Calm down, Grey! _I shout at myself. _This is Ana, for fuck's sake! It's not like she's going to hurt you._

No, instead, I watch as she leans forward closer to me, still gazing at my eyes for any signs of protest. I go rigid when I realize her intentions, but will her to go on, wanting to know what she's about to do feels like.

With the same gentleness as her fingers, her lips meet my skin with a soft, loving kiss on the left side of my chest above my heart. The feeling knocks me for a loop, and I barely even realize as a painful moan escapes from me.

Worried, Ana pulls back immediately, though I don't open my eyes to look at her. Instead, I gasp, "Again," wanting to feel her lips against me again – wanting to let her love me.

Again, she repeats the process, leaning in slowly for another kiss. She doesn't stop this time, lifting her lips for just a second before bringing them down again.

For the second time tonight, I feel another totally unfamiliar sensation. For the first time in my adult life, I feel hot salty tears well up in my eyes, spilling over almost immediately down my face.

_What the fuck? I'm crying?!_

It takes me a second to realize that the placement of her kisses isn't random – she's kissing my scars!

The thought strangles me, causing a tumult of emotions to catch in my throat.

I groan, reaching for her, unable to take any more right now. Immediately, my hands tangle in her hair, using it to pull her face to mine so my lips catch hers. Ana's arms cling to my neck, her fingers knotted in my hair as she kisses me back with just as much fervor as I feel more salty tears steam down, unable to stop them.

"Oh, Ana," I breathe, twisting until I'm hovering over her on the hard floor. Ana brings her hands to my face, her fingers inadvertently brushing away the tears on my cheeks.

She breaks away, feeling the wetness under her fingers. "Christian, please don't cry. I meant it when I said I'd never leave. I did. If I keep you any other impression, I'm so sorry… Please, please forgive me. I love you. I will always love you"

Her trembling fingers wipe away the remnant of my tears, bringing them to a halt with her words. I continue to hover over her, staring down at her, deliberating.

_She needs to know, Grey. If she plans on staying, she has to know. Everything…_

As if she can read my mind, she inquires," What is this secret that makes you think I'll run for the hills? That makes you so determined to believe I'll go?" Her voice wavers, shaking slightly as she goes on. "Tell me, Christian, _please_…"

She stares up at me with pleading eyes, begging me for answers which I've done everything to keep from her.

_I can't tell her! She'll leave the second she knows!_

I sit up suddenly, crossing my legs as I continue my internal debate. Ana follows my movement so that she's sitting up as well, gazing at me intently, patiently. Waiting.

"Ana…" I hedge, stopping myself. _You have to tell her. But how?_

I take a deep breath, gulping with panic._ She has a right to know…_

Then, I let it all come out in a rush, desperate for it to just be over. "I'm a sadist, Ana. I like to whip little brown-haired girls like you because you all look like the crack whore – my birth mother. I'm sure you can guess why."

As soon as the words are out, I felt a strange mixture of panic and relief. Panic because now, I know she'll leave – there's no doubt about it. And relief because now she finally knows everything, no more hiding.

My fear is strengthened as I watch her expression. At first she looks shocked, taken aback. Then horrified.

"He said you weren't a sadist," she whispers desperately, referring to our first conversation concerning doms and subs.

"No, I said I was a Dominant. If I lied to you, it was a lie of omission. I'm sorry." I break eye contact, unable to look at her face – to see the inevitable disgust which I know she has to be feeling.

"When you asked me that question, I had envisioned a very different relationship between us," I explain, trying in some miniscule way to explain away my actions. As if this does anything to make it better.

I look back at her, expecting for her to get up and bolt any second now.

"So it's true," she breathes, dismayed. "I can't give you what you need."

_What?! After what I just said, that's what she's worried about? _I frown, not expecting this.

"No no no. Ana. You can. You_ do_ give me what I need." My hands balled into fists. "Please believe me." _She has to believe me… She just has to._

"I don't know what to believe, Christian. This is so fucked-up," she says, her voice low, appalled.

_I have to make her see that what she thinks I need is not the problem… Not anymore… I have to put her fears to rest. She deserves that._

Still in a little disbelief that she has yet dash for the door, I seize my opportunity, beginning to babble a little. "Ana, believe me. After I punished you and you left me, my worldview changed. I wasn't joking when I said I would afford him for feeling like that again." I stare at her, willing her to believe me.

"When you said you loved me, it was a revelation. No one's ever said it to me before, and it was as if I'd laid something to rest – or maybe you'd laid it to rest, I don't know. Dr. Flynn and I are still in deep discussion about it."

Ana's eyes widen with surprise, her face not looking quite so distraught anymore. So maybe it's working…

"What does that all mean?" she asks desperately.

"It means I don't need it. Not now." _What I need is you. Only you_.

"How do you know?" she demands. "How can you be so sure?"

"I just know," I tell her honestly. The thought of hurting you… in any real way...it's abhorrent to me." I shudder just thinking about it.

"I don't understand," she says slowly, her brows knitting together with confusion. "What about rulers and spanking and all that kinky fuckery?"

I run a hand through my hair, feeling almost amused by her obtuseness. _That's all fun and games, my love…_

"I'm talking about the heavy shit, Anastasia. You should see what I can do with the cane or a cat." I say the words honestly, but it doubt the wisdom of them when I see her mouth drop open with shock at my brazenness.

"I'd rather not," she says what I already know.

"I know," I acknowledge. "If you wanted to do that, then fine… But you don't and I get it. I can't do all that shit with you if you don't want to. I told you once before, you have all the power. And now, since you came back, I don't feel that compulsion at all."

She stares at me incredulously. "When we met, that's what you wanted, though?"

"Yes, undoubtedly."

"How can your compulsion just go, Christian? Like I'm some kind of panacea, and you're – for want of a better word – cured? I don't get it."

_What's not to get? Can't you understand that I love you so much that I need nothing else but you?_

I release a sigh. "I wouldn't say 'cured'… You don't believe me?"

"I just find it – unbelievable," she says. "Which is different."

I go on, trying to convince her further. "If you'd never left me, then I probably wouldn't feel this way. Your walking out on me was the best thing you ever did… For us. It made me realize how much I want you, just you, and I mean it when I say I'll take you any way I can have you."

She stares at me, staying silent, as if she doesn't know what I'll say – how else to argue this.

"You're still here," I observe with quiet disbelief. "I thought you would be out of the door by now."

Ana's blue eyes gleam. "Why? Because I might think you're a sicko for whipping and fucking women who look like your mother?" she snaps out of the blue, taking me back. I gape at her sudden outburst. I to have no rebuttal to her words – because I know they're true, but the hurt like a knife to my nonexistent heart, all the same.

"Well, I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but yes," I tell her, wishing I could somehow deny it.

She keeps staring at me, her expression softening. Suddenly, she lets out a sigh. "Christian," she says wearily, making me tense as I anticipate the worst. But she takes me off guard yet again by saying, "I'm exhausted. Can we discuss this tomorrow? I want to go to bed."

_Go to bed? As in here? In our apartment? With me? _

"You're not going?" I ask in disbelief, making sure I heard right.

"Do you want me to go?" she asks pointedly, her voice sounding worn.

_Of course not! _"No! I thought you would leave once you knew." My heart leaps in my chest with a mixture of hope and relief.

I watch as her expression changes, becoming speculative. Suddenly, she looks unsure – like she doubts her decision to stay.

"Don't leave me," I beg.

"Oh, for crying out loud –_ no! _I am not going to go!" she yells in exasperation.

"Really?" I asked, still disbelieving that it's even possible.

"What can I do to make you understand I will not run? What can I say?" she demands wearily.

In that moment, all I know is that I have to keep her. I have to do whatever it takes to keep us together – always. I want her to be mine – and only mine. No matter what.

"There is one thing you can do," I tell her, the idea taking root.

"What?" she snaps, irritated.

"Marry me," I whisper. I watch the myriad of emotions that play across Ana's face. First shock; then doubt; then disbelief; then… Amusement? Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hysterical sounding giggle erupts from her lips, turning to full blown laughter.

_What the…? What about this is funny?_

Ana leans back against the floor as she laughs harder and harder covering her eyes with her arm as they tear up from the laughter.

When she seem to have laughed herself out, I move over her, grasping her wrist and lifting her arm off her eyes so I can look at her.

I stare down at her with sardonic amusement of my own – glad to hear her laughing, but unable to find what's so funny.

_I just proposed to her, and she starts laughing? What is that about?_

I wipe away one of her stray tears. "You find my proposal I'm amusing, Miss Steele?" I ask her. Reaching up, she gently caresses my face, running her fingertips over the unshaved skin of my jaw.

"Mr. Grey… Christian. Your sense of time it is without doubt…" she trails off, not finishing her thought. But she doesn't need to – I know it she means.

I smile wryly at her but still can't shake the nagging hurt that she has yet to say anything.

"You're cutting me to the quick here, Ana. Will you marry me?"

Ana sits up until she's above me, so I have to look up to meet her eyes. She rests her hands affectionately on my knees. "Christian, I've met you're psycho ex with a gun, been thrown out of my apartment, had you go thermonuclear Fifty on me –"

I open my mouth to protest, but she holds up her hand, halting me so she can go on. "You've just revealed some quite frankly shocking information about yourself, and now you've asked me to marry you."

I shake my head from side to side, seeing her point – seeing the amusement, if not downright absurdity, of it all.

"Yes, I think that's a fair and accurate summary of the situation," I comment.

She shakes her head. "Whatever happened to delayed gratification?"

"I got over it and now I'm a firm advocate of instant gratification. Carpe diem, Ana," I whisper, beseeching her to see it my way.

"Look, Christian, I've known you for about 3 minutes, and there's so much more I need to know. I've had too much to drink, I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I want to get to bed. I need to consider your proposal just as I considered that contract you gave me. And –" her lip slides into a thin line as she pauses to give me a sideways glance. "That wasn't the most romantic proposal.

I tilt my head, my lips curved into a smile as I understand. "Fair point well-made, as ever, Miss Steele," I say with palpable relief to know that everything seems to be smoothing over – to know that the reason she isn't saying yes is her need for time and her desire for hearts and flowers…"So, that's not a no?"

"No, Mr. Grey, it's not a no, but it's not a yes, either. You're only doing this because you're scared, and you don't trust me."

"No," I disagree lightly, shaking my head." I am doing this because I've finally met someone I want to spend the rest of my life with." I stare her with the sincerity, trying to make her see the truth of my words.

Her face softens, and her lips part. So I go on. "I never thought that would happen to me."

_Never in a million years…_

"Can I think about it… Please? And think about everything else for time today? What you've just told me? You asked for patience and faith. Well, back at you, Grey. I need those now."

I stare at her, remembering her words from earlier – that I never give her time, time to just think… Well, if that's what she needs now, that's what I'll give her. Anything for her.

"I can live with that," I say as I lean forward, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before I plant a soft kiss on her lips. "Not very romantic, eh?" I ask, raising an eyebrow with amusement. She gives me an unhappy shake of her head.

"Hearts and flowers?" I ask gently.

She nods, and I smile, still feeling lightheaded with relief.

Then I remember something she said. "You're hungry?"

"Yes."

"You didn't eat," I state, not a question. Her expression tells me I am right. I feel my face harden with displeasure – she knows how I feel about her eating, especially when she drinks.

Ana responds to my scolding tone and expression. She sits back on her heels. "No, I didn't eat. Being thrown out of my apartment after witnessing my boyfriend interacting intimately with his ex-submissive considerably suppressed my appetite," she says condescendingly, lashing out again and glowering me as if daring me to dispute this.

I don't respond but simply shake my head as I finally rise from the floor, offering my hand to her. "Let me fix you something to eat."

"Can't I just go to bed?" She grumbles, putting her hand into mine.

I pull her from the floor, staring down at her. "No, you need to eat. Come." _You're already too thin. _I take her hand and meet her toward the kitchen as I try to come up with ideas for what to eat.

"Christian, I'm really not hungry." Ana protests in vain as I rummage through the fridge. "Cheese?" I ask as some catches my eye.

"Not at this hour," she says.

"Pretzels?"

"In the fridge? No," she mutters sullenly.

"You don't like pretzels?" I ask, unable to stop from smiling at the new piece of knowledge.

"Not at eleven thirty. Christian, I'm going to bed. You can rummage around in your refrigerator for the rest of the night if you want. I'm tired, and I've had far too interesting a day. A day I'd like to forget," she says, sliding out of the barstool as she starts to leave.

Suddenly, I see a familiar left over dish. "Macaroni and cheese?" I ask, stopping her and holding up the bowl.

"You like macaroni and cheese?" she asks, her face softening at whatever she sees. I nod with enthusiasm. Macaroni and cheese has been my favorite dish since Grace and Carrick adopted me.

"You want some?" I ask eagerly.

She nods and gives me a small smile, making me grin happily her – satisfied that she's decided on something to eat. Making quick work of it, I take the wrapping off top of the bowl and put it in the microwave, and set it to 2 minutes as I set out the dishes.

"So you know how to use the microwave, then?" Ana jokes from behind me, playing off my lack of kitchen knowledge.

"If it's in a packet, I can usually do something with it. It's real food I have a problem with," I mutter back, fixing everything.

"It's very late," she muses.

"Don't go to work tomorrow," I suggest simply.

"I have to go to work tomorrow. My boss is leaving for New York."

"Do you want to go to New York?" I asked, remembering the huge fit she through over my stopping this trip.

"I checked the weather forecast, and it looks like rain," she answers, shaking her head.

"Oh so what you want to do?" I ask, still reveling in the fact that I still have her – still get to make plans with her.

The microwave goes off just as she responds. "I just want to get through one day at a time right now. All this excitement is… Tiring." She cocks an eyebrow at me, like she's waiting for me to disagree with that assessment. Instead, I rise to get the food.

I place the bowl between us, sitting down beside her as I fall into my own thoughts. Ana spoons the pasta onto our plates.

"Sorry about Leila," I murmur to her, feeling remorse flood through me that Ana ever had to go through something like that.

"Why are you sorry?" she asks, chewing.

"It must have been a terrible shock for you, finding her in your apartment. Taylor swept through it earlier himself. He's very upset."

"I don't blame Taylor."

"Neither do I. He's been out looking for you," I tell her.

"Really? Why?" she asks. _Oh gee, because we didn't know where the hell you were! _A sliver of frustration resurrects itself from earlier as I realize we never got to talk about this. But I try to keep poised as I answer her.

"I didn't know where you were. You left your purse, your phone. I couldn't even track you. Where did you go?" I try to make my tone sound politely curious, but on the inside, I'm dying to know where she could've possible went all that time with Cavanaugh.

"Ethan and I just went to a bar across the street. So I could watch what was happening," she tells me.

"I see."

"So what did you do with Leila in the apartment?" she asks, taking me aback. Her voice has a forced nonchalance about it. But I can tell that she's anything but nonchalant.

The question makes me freeze…_Oh shit. This is probably a horrible time to have this conversation…_

"You really want to know?" I ask, wishing she would say no and let it drop. But, or course, she doesn't.

"Yes," she breathes, her face laced with worry all of a sudden. I put my fork down, squirming around in my seat a bit, knowing that this isn't going to play well. _As if we haven't already dealt with enough tonight._

"We talked and I gave her a bath," I tell Ana, watching her reaction. When she doesn't say anything, I continue. "And I dressed her in some of your clothes. I hope you don't mind. But she was filthy."

I honestly think I see her turn green underneath her alabaster skin, but she continues to say nothing – just stares at me like she wants to either cry or maybe throw up with the tid bit of news.

"It was all I could do, Ana," I say softly, trying to make her understand. In my past relationships, I used to give my submissives baths – the closest thing to 'caring' I ever did for any of them. I knew that was as much comfort I would be able to give Leila in the state that she's in – her Master bathing her.

You still have feelings for her?" Ana whispers, her voice saturated in pain.

"No!" I protest vehemently. _I never _had _feelings for her in the first the place. Nothing outside of my role as caretaker which goes along with being a dominant. _

Ana turns away from me, visibly hurt by my admission as I try to go on and make see it for what it is. "To see her like that – so different, so broken. I care about her, one human being to another." I try to dispel the thoughts of how much she's changed – from a spirited sub who would do things on purpose just to make things more interesting to this empty shell of a person.

I look over at Ana to see that she's still turned away from me so that I can't read her expression. "Ana, look at me."

I wait for a response. And wait. "Ana," I say again.

"What?" she hisses venomously at me, but still makes no move to turn to me.

"Don't," I tell her firmly. "It doesn't mean anything. It was like caring for a child, a broken, shattered child." The analogy happens to actually be spot on, recalling the distorted, jumbled way she was talking – just like a five year old with a limited vocabulary.

I see more than hear Ana take a deep breath, her shoulders expanding. At first, I take this as a good sign – as her calming down. "Ana?" I ask tentatively.

She still doesn't look at me though. Instead, she simply slides off her seat, her feet hitting the floor, as she grabs up her plate. She starts walking away, taking the plate to the sink – all without saying a word to me or even chancing a glance in my direction.

"Ana, please," I beg. That seems to do the trick…

She spins around on her heel, pinning me with a burning blue stare. "Just stop, Christian!" she shouts, her voice loud but thick with emotion as it catches slightly in her throat.. "Just stop with the 'Ana, please'!"

Her eyes brim with so many tears that they immediately spill over her face as she continues. "I've had enough of all this shit today. I am going to bed. I am tired and emotional. Now let me be."

Without another word or a pause for me to respond, she wheels around, darting out of the room away from me.

Pain lances through me. _Congratulations, Grey. You've done it again…_

I sigh heavily, running my hand through my hair in frustration as I rise from my seat to get rid of the remains of the food.

Within a minute, I'm following after her, still worried that maybe she's changed her mind and is going to end up leaving.

I enter our bedroom, and immediately see that she's not in here. I see her clothes in a heap on the floor and the bathroom light is peeking through. But as I approach the door, my heart cracks at the sound I already hear coming from inside.

Ana outright sobbing.

Sure enough, when I open the door, my eyes dart down to see her small little figure wearing one of my t-shirts, sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees as sob after sob rack her tiny frame.

For the second time tonight, I let myself drop to the floor on my knees where I settle in beside Ana.

"Hey," I murmur, hesitantly pulling her to me, half expecting for her to push me away after how angry she just was in the kitchen. But she doesn't – she lets me settle her into my embrace, melting into me as she continues to weep violently. "Please don't cry, Ana. Please."

It's gutting me to watch this – to see her in this much pain, especially knowing that I'm the one who caused it.

Ana turns in my arms, snaking her arms around my neck and burying her face into my neck as she continues to let it all out.

I just sit there, holding her and doing whatever I can to comfort her. I rub her back and run my fingers through her hair, rocking us both back and forth.

"Shhh," I sooth, holding her tight. I have no idea how long we stay like that, but eventually, exhaustion kicks in and Ana cries herself out, quieting until there's only sniffles left.

With her still in my arms, I rise to my feet with a little effort and carry her into the bedroom, turning down the covers and placing her between the sheets. In all of five seconds, I'm changed and slide in behind her, pulling her tight against my chest.

Within sixty seconds, she's fast asleep, and though I'm just about as exhausted as she is, I hold out a little longer – marveling in my good fortune to be lying next to this woman for another night, just when I thought I would lose her forever.

We've been through hell and back just today it seems. And though neither of us got out without a few burns, everything has somehow ended up being okay in the end.

However, there's still the issue of the marriage proposal. I'm desperate for an answer – particularly a yes – but I know I shouldn't push too hard.

She's asked for time – for faith and patience. So that's what I'll make sure she gets. I would give her anything; be anything for her; do anything.

I tighten my arms around her sleeping form and sigh.

Anything for her…


End file.
